


Sinking

by Maia_Nebula



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: And TJ won't give up, Andi and Buffy are really sorry, Because TJ loves him, Gen, Heavy Angst, Includes a suicide attempt (clearly described), Jonah is kinda there, Kira attacks Cyrus, Really dark, everything goes downhill from there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 00:07:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19878346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maia_Nebula/pseuds/Maia_Nebula
Summary: Pain radiates from the back of his head as soon as it hits the corner wall. His grip tightens around her wrists, but he can’t shake her off, and she slams him against the wall again. And again. And again. His eyes fill with tears and he’s starting to see stars, but he can still hear her…---***TRIGGER WARNINGS***Deteriorating mental health and suicide attempt. No one dies, though.





	Sinking

**Author's Note:**

> This is my longest fic to date, and it covers some physical violence, just a couple of curse words, rocky relationships, deteriorating mental health and a suicide attempt. I've based the last two on my own experiences, as well as the residential care part, which actually helped me a lot. Still, I do not wish to trigger anyone. Sorry in advance if I do.

Pain radiates from the back of his head as soon as it hits the corner wall. His grip tightens around her wrists, but he can’t shake her off, and she slams him against the wall again. And again. And again. His eyes fill with tears and he’s starting to see stars, but he can still hear her.  
_He said he hates you!_  
_He knows you’re a faggot–_  
_He’s disgusted by you–_  
_You should just disappear–_  
_He doesn’t want you near him–  
__He wishes you’d leave him the fuck alone!_

His fingers felt cold before but now they’re just numb, and he doesn’t know if he’s being overcome with nausea due to her words or a concussion. He tries to twist himself free, but she rams him against the wall harder still.  
“What? Did you grow balls suddenly? Are you really going to hit a girl?” 

No, he’d never do so, but he has to make her let him go, so he turns with all his strength and pins her against the wall to his left, finally getting her hands off of him. She looks extremely surprised, but his brain blanks out thinking how to escape without her grabbing him again.

And then the door opens, and Michael and Sarah walk in.

They’re known for sneaking into empty classrooms to make out, and they’re laughing and hugging when they enter. That is, until they see Kira and Cyrus against the far corner of the room, and until they hear Kira let out a weak, pained whimper–  
“Let me go!” 

Shocked, Cyrus steps back, but not fast enough – Michael has moved between them, while Sarah has run to Kira to try and get her away from him. Over Michael’s shoulder, Cyrus can see Kira crying loudly and massaging her wrists. His fingers are clearly marked on them. He can’t breathe.

And then Michael shoves him again (he’s yelling at him, he notices), and he loses his balance, falling to the floor. The darkness is a welcome respite when he blacks out.

\---

Cyrus wakes up in the nurse’s office with the worst migraine of his life. It’s still Friday and it isn’t long before he’s taken –unmedicated– to the principal’s office, where Dr. Metcalf, the school counselor, and his mom and dad are waiting for him.

His dad’s mouth is pressed into a thin line and his mom turns slightly pale when the principal states that the punishment for what he’s done is severe. However, the school will postpone its verdict on his case, since Kira has been adamant about explaining what happened before they take action. They’ve given her a week to do so, but only because she says she needs to come to terms with it first; Cyrus will be suspended until then. If she decides to press charges, though, they’ll proceed with his expulsion.

Cyrus is speechless.

And when they get home, his parents don’t even allow him to tell them his side of the story: they confiscate his phone and laptop _–_ now he can’t contact Buffy or Andi (or TJ, he thinks despondently) _–_ and prohibit him from receiving visitors, too.

They also tell him they’ve booked him a session with a therapist that’s friends with his mom, because none of his parents can treat him since he is a family member, but they’re all convinced he needs help. It doesn’t matter that he argues that this has never happened before and that, in any case, Kira is lying. No, this is so serious that, if they charge him with assault, he’s sure they will definitely consider psychiatric intervention.

So he is miserable, stuck inside his room, when a pebble hits his window.

It’s midnight, an ungodly hour for anyone to be outside, so he rushes to let whoever it is in.

It’s Buffy.

She is sitting on a tree branch and she enters his room from there as she’s done countless times before. However, this time she’s whisper-yelling.  
“What the _hell_ did you do?”  
“Nothing!” He whisper-yells back.  
“She has bruises, Cyrus!” In frustration, she finally lets go. “ _What the fuck is wrong with you?!_ ” 

Cyrus runs his hand through his hair and moves toward his bed. Buffy doesn’t follow him.  
“What really happened is not what you think.” 

Buffy furiously scowls, crossing her arms.  
“Yeah? You’ve got 10 seconds to explain.”  
“I saw her with TJ,” he quickly answers. “He was looking at his feet in the middle of the hallway, and she was poking his side, laughing.” He looks down. “I couldn’t take it, so I decided to avoid them, but she saw me walking away–”  
“ _So you attacked her?_ ”  
“NO!”

He cringes and lowers his voice.  
“I didn’t. I went into the choir room and walked to the corner, just trying to breathe or calm down, I don’t know... I don’t think I was there long… And then she came in, turned me around and attacked _me_.”  
“Attacked you? _She’s_ the one considering pressing charges. _She’s_ the one that has two witnesses on her side.” 

Cyrus doesn’t even know when he started crying.  
“Please, Buffy! You’ve known me since second grade! I’m telling you she’s lying! How can you believe her over me? Don’t you know me?” 

Buffy is still seething as she walks to the window.  
“No, Cyrus,” she spits out, “I only thought I did.” 

And she steps out, leaving an inconsolable Cyrus behind.

\---

The appointment is a mess, and it gets worse after Cyrus doubles over, screwing his eyes shut and pulling his hair in frustration.  
“I didn’t do it!” He screams. That doesn’t really help his case.

The therapist, however, takes it in stride. At least that’s what Cyrus thinks until he hears his parents discussing the therapist’s assessment: he supposedly has passive and aggressive anger issues, and he needs to get help. He walks back to his room without them noticing and stays in his bed until it dawns without falling asleep. 

\---

Kira still hasn’t said if she’ll press charges, his dad tells him over dinner the next Monday, but the school has documented everything in case she decides to. That includes witness statements (which aren’t admissible in court anyway), photos of her injuries taken by her dad, and a video of him and then her entering the choir room. Sadly, the school doesn’t record what happens inside classrooms.

At this point, Cyrus doesn’t even care, so he just stares at his plate absentmindedly. He hasn’t eaten since it happened, though today his stepmom made his favorite meal, maybe to coax him to eat. His lips are chapped because he isn’t drinking anything either. And he keeps staring at his food, even after he notices she looks uneasy. It doesn’t matter _–_ nowadays they’re all looking at him worriedly.

\--- 

On the fifth day, his migraine downgrades to a headache, but he starts feeling dizzy and weak. He knows he is pale because he’s looked at himself in the mirror, and the bags under his eyes have never looked worse. There’s nothing to be done, though, so he sighs and walks down for breakfast, and finds his mom and dad sitting at the kitchen table. He frowns, but they’re quiet and it doesn’t seem like they’re waiting for him to say or do anything, so he mentally shrugs and makes himself a bowl of cereal. He’s thankful that they let him eat in peace.

And then his dad asks him to remain seated although he’s finished, and he knows they’ll tell him something he doesn’t want to hear.  
“Kira has decided not to press charges and insists you not be expelled, saying that you need help, not punishment, and that kicking you out will only make it worse.” _Such an angel_ , he thinks. His dad continues. “She apparently presented a pretty compelling case, because all the school has decided to do is to extend your suspension for another week.” 

He is unfazed by that, really. What upsets him is losing Buffy, and Andi not visiting, and Jonah not being close enough to him to care. And TJ – TJ not showing up to contradict what Kira said when he _must know_ it isn’t true. And that thought overpowers him.  
“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Cyrus replies, running over to the nearest bathroom. He empties his stomach’s contents in the sink because he can’t reach the toilet fast enough, and his mom is there, rubbing circles on his back, while he can barely breathe. 

\---

That afternoon he goes to his third appointment. He doesn’t say anything to the therapist this time because he doesn’t think he can feel any worse. He’s also vomited again but he hasn’t told his dad – the last thing he wants is them fussing over him.

That night his stepmom looks troubled and speaks.  
“Honey, you have to eat your dinner, at least a little bit.”  
“I’m not hungry.” 

His voice is quiet. She insists.  
“Well, do you at least want dessert? We have freshly baked chocolate chocolate chip muffins,” she tries with a fake grin. 

He shakes his head.  
“I just have a headache, sorry.”  
“Do you–” But he interrupts her.  
“It’s ok. I’ll just drink something for it and go to bed, don’t worry.” 

And he goes to the kitchen and takes the pill bottle to his room. Once there, he simply leaves it on his desk and lies facedown on his bed. His parents don’t even check on him or wish him goodnight.

Then again, they haven’t done so all these days, so he blinks back tears and turns his face to look at the wall. But the tears don’t stop flowing because he now knows he’s been deserted; he’s all alone. No one believes him, no one cares. Even those he thought knew him best have abandoned him. And it won’t get better. Everything he’s done, everything he’s put up with to please others, every kind word he’s spoken, all of it has been erased from people’s minds and all that is left is the perception that he’s violent, an abuser in the making. He won’t outgrow this. They’ll never forget her lies. They’ll never believe he’s not a monster…

He has a stiff neck after spending five hours in the same position, ruminating thoughts haunting him, so he turns his head to the other side. The moon shines through the curtains, illuminating certain parts of his room. These include his desk, right where the pill bottle is. He frowns.

He still has a headache and now his neck hurts, too, so it doesn’t take a lot of inner dialogue to make him reach for it. He looks at it languidly and slowly turns it in his hands before standing up and walking to the bathroom.

He doesn’t really know what he’s thinking. He doesn’t even really understand what he’s doing. All he knows is that it’s peaceful and he’s calm while he takes pills from the bottle and downs them with the water he gathers in his cupped hands. He’s blinking slowly and his brain is quiet. He loses count after the first 40, but now he can breathe again…

He walks to his bed, leaving the empty bottle on the sink’s countertop, before settling in for the night. He falls asleep soon after that.

\---

Pain. Excruciating pain. He curls up and hugs himself, only for it to get worse. He knows he’s crying and gasping for air, and he tries to sit up, to stand up, to do anything, but he just _can’t_ , so he drags himself to the edge of the bed, pushing his pillow and comforter out of the way in desperation. Before he can move any further, he vomits. It’s frothy and it doesn’t look right and it’s a miracle Cyrus can see it through his tears.

He can also see that it’s morning already, probably close to noon because a lot of light is coming in through the window. But he doesn’t care – he knows he’s dying and, _God, it hurts_. He tries to move again, trying to hold onto his nightstand for support, but he ends up toppling it over, his dinosaur lamp crashing and breaking even though the floor of his room is carpeted. In agony, he curls up again and whimpers, and then someone enters his room.

The rest is a blur. There’s an ambulance at some point, and an emergency room, and then he’s laying down on his side and there are tubes attached to him. He thinks they thrust one of them down his throat, but he isn’t sure. Is he still puking?

He comes to in a private room that smells like hospitals always do. His mom is sleeping on a chair to his right and it seems it’s dark outside. He feels numb and incredibly tired, and his throat is raw and his head is throbbing, so he doesn’t move.

His mom wakes up when a nurse comes in.

\---

He’s kept under observation following a mental health assessment for suicide risk. He thinks it’s idiotic – he tried to commit suicide, so his risk for that is obviously high. He doesn’t say anything, though. After all, he didn’t think it was a suicide attempt while he was doing it, but he doesn’t know what it was supposed to be, either.

Needless to say, his parents are fussing over him, all four of them, which is exactly what he wanted to avoid. They don’t fuss like normal people, though. It’s more the quiet looks, the measured tones, the open questions that exasperate him. But they’re trying to help, so, again, he doesn’t say anything.

And he really doesn’t want to say anything unless he absolutely has to. It’d be nice to not have to think about what he’s going to say, ignoring what others are saying because he wouldn’t have to reply. Yet they still prod him for verbal interaction, saying that’s the only way he’ll get better. He scoffs: what he has isn’t a cold that can be cured by speaking. But he knows they won’t release him unless he talks to them, so he decides to answer whatever they ask.  
“Why did you do it?” is the first question he hears them utter.  
“I don’t know. It felt right at the time, I guess.” 

These words cost him dearly, because they say he isn’t being ‘honest and open’. He doesn’t understand, because he hasn’t lied. In the end, he isn’t discharged until six days later, when he finally says what they want to hear, and, even then, he’s not really sent home.

So it’s a good thing, he thinks while his dad drives, that he’s suspended and that his parents are mental health professionals, because no one notices or says anything about him missing school. His time off also allows him to come up with a cover story: he fell down the stairs and got a concussion, so he had to be hospitalized for a couple of days. Cyrus wonders briefly if he really had one from the assault, but he goes back to his default setting and doesn’t say anything.

\---

Being at home isn’t as nice as he had hoped. He still has to follow the eating-sleeping-taking-medication schedule they made him follow while he was in the hospital, and his stepmom makes sure he takes care of his personal hygiene. They all seem to think he’s depressed, and that it will somehow result in Cyrus not showering or even brushing his teeth. He doesn’t want to do those things, that’s true, but it’s because all he wants to do is to go lie down. He’s never felt so physically and emotionally drained. Does that count as depression? Or is the concept more related to crying wretchedly? He mentally shrugs – it doesn’t matter; it won’t make them stop fretting over him.

They also offer to return his phone and laptop. He says he doesn’t want them, which ends up with his dad explaining the importance of having a support system, apologizing for not being there for him, and hiding every pill in the house. He wonders if it wouldn’t be better if he just moved in with his mom. No one suggests it, though, and days go by unhurriedly in between his dad’s house and the outpatient treatment center he’s been referred to.

Seven days later it’s Monday again and he has to go back to class.

His parents had offered to let him change schools, but the year is almost over, so they hadn’t pressed the issue. Now he wonders if it wouldn’t have been a better idea to place him in residential care instead of letting him return to Jefferson, because everyone stares at him as he walks to his locker. _They don’t know about the attempt, they don’t know about the attempt, they don’t know about the attempt_ , he repeats in his head like a mantra, reminding himself that what everyone has on their minds is the supposed assault on Kira. _His_ supposed assault on Kira. He swallows hard – that isn’t helping.

He’s about to have a panic attack right then and there when Andi taps his arm.

He flinches but turns around and her impassive face becomes concerned. He knows how he looks but he can’t help it.  
“Are you ok?” she asks quietly. 

His eyes fill with tears and he shakes his head, just barely, so she takes hold of his hand.  
“Let’s go somewhere more private,” she says. 

She takes him outside. 

_Maybe she’s afraid I’ll attack her, too_ , he thinks miserably, but she doesn’t look scared. They end up sitting down on the bleachers, far enough from the main building to be late to class if their talk isn’t short. Andi has rarely been late in her life.

And he doesn’t understand why, because he doesn’t want to open up to anyone, and it still hurts that she wasn’t there for him before, but Andi is here now, risking being tardy to be with him instead, and she seems to care, so he can’t help it: he tells her his version of the events, ending lamely with him falling down the stairs at home. Judging by her reaction, it’s good he didn’t tell her why he really ended up in the ER.

\---

Cyrus knows the principal and the nurse’s office know about his ‘accident’ because his parents notified them, so he isn’t surprised when he’s allowed to skip dance class. However, he can’t figure out how everyone else knows (other than Buffy, because he knew Andi would tell her). He hasn’t thought out the little details – _why was he going upstairs? or was he running downstairs? did he feel faint all of a sudden or did he just trip?_ – so he anxiously thinks that people will start suspecting he isn’t telling the truth.

Instead, everyone seems to accept that he’s gravitationally impaired, so him toppling over and falling down 16 steps isn’t surprising. It does earn him concerned looks when he walks into and out of and up to and down from places, though, something he finds both curious and annoying. After all, almost three weeks ago they despised him. How come they don’t mind ‘watching out for him’ now?

Kira clearly minds. She looks at him from afar, but he avoids her gaze.

\---

His stepmom is already waiting outside when the last bell rings. Cyrus walks to her car sluggishly, thinking that this is only the first day back, so he still has four to go before he can lie down on his bed and not move. They should really consider the residential care option. Surely they give classes there, too.

However, he must admit that he’s thankful: his teachers have assigned him a lighter workload ( _yay!_ for fake concussions), and that will let him attend today’s therapy session without falling behind. Since the psychiatrist and therapist that are seeing him apparently won’t confirm he’s recovered anytime soon, he hopes his teachers will think he’s unwell for the rest of the year. He doubts it.

\---

A knock rouses him from his stupor – he has no idea how long he’s been staring at the wall, but it’s probably been long enough. Surprisingly, no one is around to open it and the person knocks again. Cyrus mentally shrugs and goes and opens the door.

TJ is on the other side.

TJ breathes his name.

Cyrus swallows hard.  
“I heard what happened. Are you ok?” 

It’s easy to see TJ is distressed, and it makes Cyrus wonder if that is really what he was going to ask. In the end, it doesn’t matter, does it?  
“I’m fine,” he replies mechanically.  
“I’m not talking about the stairs.” 

Cyrus doesn’t know what to say.  
“She’s lying. I know she is. I know you, and I know her, and I know you would never do what she says you did.” His voice is earnest as he continues. “So what _did_ happened in the choir room?” 

He’s the only one outside his parents and mental health professionals that has asked, and it seems like he cares. So Cyrus turns his back on him, closes the door and walks away. He doesn’t know how long it takes TJ to leave –he just shut the door in his face, so he imagines he left immediately– but he knows TJ got the message because he doesn’t knock again.

That night he asks and, as expected, his parents agree. It takes him less than an hour to move in with his mom, where TJ has never been.

\---

The week trudges on. He asks to change his regular classes for tutoring, alleging constant migraines. Everyone seems to have forgotten about what happened with Kira, because they oblige.

And Kira… Well, Kira is behaving strangely. It isn’t like she’s monitoring him, though she is, and it isn’t like she’s staring, but she does. It unnerves him, but there’s nothing he can do about it, and he rather prefers them not interacting anyway.

\---

It was too good to last, though. He knew it. And it ends when he’s leaving for the day, when no one’s around to witness it, because it is at that moment, right after he takes some books out of his locker and places them in his bag wearily, that he turns just to find himself face to face with Kira.

He gasps and pushes himself against his locker, his eyes full of terror, his vision swimming as she places a hand on his shoulder and looks at him intently. But she doesn’t do anything else. It takes him a second to register that she’s not hurting him, and his mind immediately remembers that there are cameras in the hallways – she’ll have to get him into one of the classrooms to assault him.

She doesn’t seem to want to do that, though.  
“Did you really fall down 16 steps?” 

Cyrus didn’t expect that question, so he doesn’t know how to answer. It looks like she wasn’t expecting a reply as she continues.  
“Or did you _throw yourself_ down the stairs?” 

He doesn’t know what she’s getting at. His brain keeps shrieking _Escape!_ Her face keeps being unreadable.  
“I hate you.”

 _Can’t she just stop talking?  
_“But I don’t want you to die, ok?” 

She walks away, ending the most awkward conversation he’s had in his life.

\---

Yet life continues to hate him, he thinks, when he’s called down to greet visitors that same afternoon. Can’t everyone just leave him alone? But his mom insists so he goes downstairs, realizing too late that his visitors are Buffy and Andi, and that they’re in the living room. He immediately turns to flee.

But Buffy is faster. She runs to him and hugs him from behind with all her strength, and that’s when he notices she’s crying.

And that’s when he notices he’s crying, too.

\---

Kira is changing schools, they tell him. She’s admitted to Dr. Metcalf and the school counselor that they pushed each other around that day in the choir room, but that they didn’t really fight, although she’s sure they would have if no one had walked in on them. Cyrus imagines that Dr. Metcalf is the one that told everyone – aren’t counselors required to maintain confidentiality? He’ll ask his mom.

In any case, the word has spread like wildfire and now everyone thinks Kira lied. That’s exactly what Cyrus had said from the start, he thinks, but he bites his tongue. After all, Buffy and Andi are extremely sorry, and he doesn’t really care that no one else will apologize. Plus, it’s been too long to matter, hasn’t it?

Hasn’t it?

\---

His parents keep making him take his medicine in front of them, making sure he swallows the pills before letting him go on with his day. It no longer bothers him. What bothers him is the fact that TJ seems to be avoiding him.

He must be honest, though: it’s his fault. After all, didn’t he push TJ away?

\---

And finally, _finally_ , summer starts. School ends (thankfully, without a bang), and he’s allowed to stay cooped up in his room. Buffy and Andi, and sometimes Jonah, come visit, but they go up to meet him there as that’s what he wants. They seem really understanding. He wonders if they know.

TJ doesn’t visit him, though.

Two weeks in, he cracks and gives him a call. He doesn’t know what he’ll say, but he doesn’t have to worry about that because TJ doesn’t pick up. He doesn’t have to worry about that because he doesn’t leave a voicemail either.

Half an hour later TJ returns the call.  
“Cyrus?” 

TJ knows who he’s calling, so why does he ask anyway? Cyrus rolls his eyes and replies in the same fashion.  
“TJ?”  
“Yeah, yeah… Saw your call. What’s going on?” 

Why would something be going on? _Probably because you haven’t spoken in_ _over a month_ , his brain helpfully answers. Cyrus frowns.  
“Dunno.” 

Wow. He sure is articulate. The silence extends for a little bit.  
“Can I come see you?” 

Cyrus imagines he’s worried about staying on the other side of the door again.  
“I’m not at my dad’s,” he replies.  
“I know.” 

Maybe that’s why he hasn’t come visit yet. In his head he thanks Andi, Buffy and Jonah for not telling him where he lives now.  
“Send me the location and I’ll go meet you wherever you are.” And TJ somehow sounds both confident and nervous. 

Cyrus thinks about it briefly and nods to himself.  
“Ok.” 

He sends him the park’s location, the pin right where the swings – _their swings_ – are.

\---

His parents still don’t trust him. He knows that because his stepdad, who doesn’t have appointments booked for the next two hours, drives him to the park and sits down on a bench not too far from where TJ and Cyrus will meet. He doesn’t do it inconspicuously, but Cyrus imagines it’s because his stepdad is trying to get him to speak. He doesn’t say anything.

He reaches the swings hoping his stepdad is already immersed in the book he brought with him. He turns around to check and – no, no such luck: his stepdad is looking at him intently. But he doesn’t have time to think about that because TJ arrives almost as soon as he sits down, looking at him warily.  
“Hey,” he says.  
“Hey,” TJ replies. 

His neck will eventually hurt if he keeps looking up, so he asks TJ to sit. TJ does, on the edge of his swing.

They’re silent for a while.

\---

TJ has a small smile on his face after Cyrus tells him part of what really happened with Kira. It seems inappropriate until he speaks.  
“I knew it! I knew she lied!” 

All that’s missing is TJ doing a victory dance. Cyrus dismisses the thought to avoid laughing.

And then another thought crosses his mind: should he tell TJ about his ‘fall’? He decides not to and says goodbye, walking away to go home with his stepdad.  
“Cyrus, wait!” 

He doesn’t, and his stepdad just follows him to the car. After a short pause, Cyrus hears hurried steps behind him, which he assumes are TJ's as he runs back to his bike, but he gets in the car without looking back.

His stepdad drives quieter and slower than he ever has to his mom’s house.

TJ is out of breath when, a couple of minutes later, he knocks on the door.

\---

Cyrus is shouting louder than he ever has before, but no one stops him. He yells at TJ all he knows. He screams at TJ what Kira told him: how TJ is disgusted by him, how he says Cyrus is a faggot that he can’t wait to get rid of. And, is he shouting or wailing? It doesn’t matter, because he tells him, he tells him everything.

He tells TJ that he left him all alone to fend for himself, only coming afterwards to say he believed him, instead of standing up for him when it mattered. And that he didn’t care about Cyrus enough to at least call and see if he was ok. And that it hurt, and that he couldn’t make it stop hurting until the night he overdosed, and that he’d never felt more at peace in his life than when he did it.  
“And I really wish it had worked, so I could rid myself of everything and everyone.” Cyrus doesn’t really think any of this, but he can’t stop himself and adds venomously, “And I hate you. I wish I’d killed myself so I could have rid myself of you, too.” 

And he storms off, running up the stairs to the safety of his room.

\---

TJ doesn’t give up. He calls and writes and shows up constantly, like he’s trying to wear him down. Worst of all, Cyrus parents don’t seem to think there’s anything wrong with what TJ is doing. But it overwhelms Cyrus to the point of making him break down in front of his therapist, saying he still wishes he had done it, and that he’s afraid he’ll try again. With that, he is _at last_ placed in residential care, where Andi and Buffy and Jonah _and TJ_ can’t contact him anymore.

\---

They take away his shoelaces when he arrives, and anything he can strangle or otherwise hurt himself with. He had guessed they would do so, but he didn’t think they’d be so thorough. He even has to shower without a curtain in front of one of the staff, and he has to follow a personalized program that’s filled with multiple forms of therapy. Out of these, he likes art therapy the most, because it soothes him although he always ends up crying.

His parents are allowed a 15-minute visit once a day, but they can only come in pairs, so they take turns to see him. He thinks they pretend to be happy about his progress because he can see sadness in their eyes, until, against all his expectations, he slowly does get better. He isn’t as lethargic, he isn’t as upset, and days aren’t as dreary.

Three weeks later, he goes home.

\---

He is thankful that he gets a couple of days to himself before his friends show up. He’s in a good place – he’s taking his meds and following the timetable they gave him before he left. And he thinks he can handle it.

But then Andi and Buffy and Jonah show up with TJ, and he suddenly can’t. He’s shaken and he now knows his friends know where he was, because they’re looking at him like he’s died and resurrected, and he can’t say anything, because he’s so choked up he thinks he’ll drown. And he is sinking, sinking, sinking to his knees, because he can no longer hold himself together.

He ends up passing out.

He eventually comes to, lying on the couch, which feels so big that it’s like it engulfs him. He’s crying and they’re crying – everyone’s crying, including TJ, who is still there.  
“What are you doing here?” He croaks out accusingly.  
“We’re here because we love you,” Andi sobs, not understanding who the question was directed at. He can’t frown, though, because TJ understood.  
“I’m here because I love you,” is all TJ says, and Cyrus feels numb as he stares at him. Is TJ just repeating things? 

But TJ seizes the opportunity to speak in the ensuing silence.  
“How could you believe her over me?” He asks, sounding devastated. “I was scared, scared that she’d out me, scared that you’d hate me, because I’ve loved you since the first time we talked on the swings. I called you ‘Underdog’ because I didn’t think you could do it when I met you, but there was no competitor that could win my heart afterwards.” 

His voice gradually softens. The others are kind enough to not interrupt.  
“So I couldn’t leave you alone without telling you. That’s why I kept coming and writing and calling: I wanted you –no, I needed you– to know the truth. I regret, _absolutely regret_ that I wasn’t there for you. I was an idiot that didn’t know what to do, or how to help you, and I will never forgive myself for that. But _please_ know that I _do_ love you. I love you much, much more than I’ve stupidly shown you so far; hopefully much, much more than you think.” 

TJ looks at his feet as seconds pass in complete silence in the living room. When Cyrus doesn’t reply, he tells him “I love you” again, sounding heartbroken, and excuses himself. As TJ leaves, Cyrus wonders how he could have thought that he was ready to handle this.

\---

But a week later he’s ready. He knows because he no longer feels like he will sink.

So he writes four words to TJ, who immediately calls him back. Cyrus doesn’t understand TJ’s excitement – all the message said was “I love you, too.”


End file.
